Novels, Tales, Journeys

FROM THE PUBLISHER

Having undertaken the task of publishing The Tales of I. P. Belkin, now offered to the public, we wish to attach to them at least a brief biography of the late author and thus satisfy in part the justifiable curiosity of the lovers of our national literature. To that end we addressed ourselves to Marya Alexeevna Trafilina, the closest relation and heir of Ivan Petrovich Belkin; but, unfortunately, she was unable to provide any information about him, for she was not acquainted with the late man at all. She advised us to refer on this subject to a certain estimable gentleman who had been Ivan Petrovich’s friend. We followed her advice, and to our letter received the desired reply that follows. We place it here without any changes or commentary, as a precious memorial of a noble way of thinking and of a touching friendship, and at the same time as a perfectly sufficient biographical notice.

My dear Mr. * * *,

On the 23rd of this month I had the honor of receiving your esteemed letter of the 15th of the same month, in which you express to me your wish to have detailed information about the dates of birth and death, the service, the domestic circumstances, and the occupations and character of the late Ivan Petrovich Belkin, formerly my sincere friend and neighboring landowner. It is a great pleasure for me to fulfill your wish and send to you, my dear sir, all that I am able to remember of his conversation, as well as my own observations.

Ivan Petrovich Belkin was born of honorable and noble parents in 1798, in the village of Goryukhino. His late father, Second-Major Pyotr Ivanovich Belkin, was married to Miss Pelageya Gavrilovna, of the house of Trafilin. He was not a wealthy man, but frugal, and quite clever with regard to management. Their son received his primary education from the village sexton. It was to this estimable man, it seems, that he owed his love of reading and his studies of Russian literature. In 1815 he entered the service in a regiment of the light infantry (I do not remember the number), in which he remained until 1823. The deaths of his parents, which occurred at almost the same time, forced him to retire and return to the village of Goryukhino, his paternal seat.

Having taken over the running of the estate, Ivan Petrovich, owing to his inexperience and soft-heartedness, soon let the management fall into neglect and relaxed the strict discipline his father had established. He replaced the industrious and efficient village headman, with whom the peasants (as is their wont) were displeased, entrusting the running of the village to his old housekeeper, who had gained his confidence by her art of telling stories. This stupid old woman was never able to distinguish between a twenty-five-rouble note and a fifty-rouble one; the peasants, who were all chummy with her, had no fear of her at all; the headman they chose connived with them and cheated so much that Ivan Petrovich was forced to abolish the corvée and institute a very moderate quitrent; but here, too, the peasants, taking advantage of his weakness, requested a significant exemption for the first year, and after that paid more than two-thirds of the quitrent in nuts, whortleberries, and the like; and here, too, there were arrears.

Having been a friend of Ivan Petrovich’s late father, I considered it my duty to offer the son my advice and volunteered more than once to re-establish the former order, which he had neglected. To that end, I called on him one day, asked to see the account books, summoned the swindling headman, and began to examine them in Ivan Petrovich’s presence. At first the young master followed me with all possible attention and diligence; but when the accounts showed that the number of peasants had increased in the last two years, while the number of the estate’s fowl and livestock had significantly decreased, Ivan Petrovich satisfied himself with this initial information and listened no further to me, and at the very moment when, in my investigation and strict questioning, I threw the swindling headman into the utmost confusion and reduced him to total silence, I was greatly annoyed to hear Ivan Petrovich snoring loudly in his chair. After that I stopped interfering in his management and handed his affairs over (as he himself did) to the management of the Almighty.

Our friendly relations, however, were not in the least disturbed by that; for, sympathizing with his weakness and harmful negligence, common to our young nobility, I sincerely loved Ivan Petrovich; indeed it was impossible not to love such a meek and honest young man. For his part, Ivan Petrovich showed respect for my age and was deeply devoted to me. Right up to the end he saw me almost every day, cherishing my simple conversation, though in habits, in character, in our way of thinking, he and I had almost nothing in common.

Ivan Petrovich led a most frugal life, avoiding any sort of excess; never did I see him tipsy (which in our parts can be regarded as an unheard-of miracle); he had a great inclination for the female sex, but his shyness was truly maidenly.^*1

Besides the tales you are pleased to mention in your letter, Ivan Petrovich left many manuscripts, some of which are in my possession, some of which the housekeeper has put to various domestic uses. For instance, last winter she sealed all of her cottage windows with the first part of a novel he had left unfinished. The above-mentioned tales seem to have been his first experiments. They are, as Ivan Petrovich used to say, mostly true and heard by him from various persons.^*2 However, the names in them are almost all fictitious, and the names of the towns and villages are all borrowed from our neighborhood, which is why my village is also mentioned somewhere. This occurred not from any ill intention, but solely from a lack of imagination.

In the autumn of 1828, Ivan Petrovich came down with a fit of ague that turned into a high fever, and he died, despite the indefatigable efforts of our district doctor, a very skillful man, especially in treating inveterate illnesses such as corns and the like. He died in my arms at thirty years of age and is buried in the church of Goryukhino next to his late parents.

Ivan Petrovich was of medium height, had gray eyes, light brown hair, and a straight nose; his face was fair and lean.

That, my dear sir, is all I can remember concerning the way of life, occupations, character, and appearance of my late neighbor and friend. But in case you are pleased to make some use of this letter of mine, I most humbly beg you to make no mention of my name; for though I have great respect and love for writers, I consider it superfluous and, at my age, improper to join their ranks. With my sincere respects, and so on.

16 November 1830

Village of Nenaradovo

Considering it our duty to respect the will of our author’s estimable friend, we express our profound gratitude to him for the information he has provided us and hope that the public will value its sincerity and good nature.

A. P.

*1 There follows an anecdote which we do not include, supposing it to be superfluous; however, we assure the reader that it contains nothing prejudicial to the memory of Ivan Petrovich Belkin. (The Publisher)

*2 In fact, in Mr. Belkin’s manuscript, at the head of each story there is written in the author’s hand: “Heard by me from such-and-such person” with rank or title and initials. We note them down here for curious readers: “The Stationmaster” was told him by the titular councilor A. G. N., “The Shot” by Lieutenant Colonel I. L. P., “The Coffin-Maker” by the clerk B. V., “The Blizzard” and “The Young Lady Peasant” by Miss K. I. T. (The Publisher)